Are You Trying Too Hard To Fail?

Imagine taking your canoe down to the river’s edge and putting it into the water… And as you get into the canoe, you deliberately point it upstream and begin working very hard at trying to make movement upstream.

And we say, ‘Why not let go of those oars and let your boat turn and go with the flow?’

And our human friends say, ‘Oh Abraham. That just seems lazy.’

And we say, ‘But how long can you keep this up?’

And you say, ‘Until the day I die. Which hopefully will be sooner than later because this is a really hard and miserable life.

‘And anyway,’ you say, ‘Everyone that is worth anything is paddling upstream too. All the monuments are about them. All the statues are about them. Every book that is written is about them.

‘And I’ve heard there are even more rewards after death. So, I think I will continue to just paddle upstream and try to eke out whatever reward I can find from this hard work and struggle. It’s virtuous, you know.’

And we say, ‘But how long can you keep this up?’

Because from our broader view, we understand so well the stream.

And this is the most important part of all about the stream scenario.

You ready?

Everything you want is downstream.

(From Abraham Hicks/Animated Abraham — YouTube)

Within the stillness I have cultivated around me, I’ve been able to realize just how hard I paddled upstream for most of my life.

So many of my old beliefs were in line with glorifying the upstream effort:

If it’s easy, it’s bad.

If I like it, I must be wasting time.

If it’s difficult, it’s good.

If I don’t like it, I must be doing something right.

Paddling upstream was all I really knew from a young age. I internalized the belief that it was irresponsible to trust myself. I kept paddling because I didn’t want to be lazy. I didn’t want to naïve, believing that life was supposed to be enjoyable.

Over the years, I heard my own voice telling me to stop paddling upstream, to stop rationalizing the struggle, to stop pretending that I wanted it. But, I kept forcing it. It seemed like my life would fall apart if I stopped.

My life fell apart anyway.

So much of my energy was spent paddling upstream that I didn’t have enough left to enjoy what was around me. I would drive away amazing people and opportunities just because I was afraid to lose them.

I applied for jobs I would have hated, got rejected, and let it affect my self esteem. I moved back home and kept selling my time to others because I had no use for it myself. After all, if I couldn’t make it work all those other times, then I would fail at anything I tried.

Eventually, I stopped paddling upstream because I was too tired to keep going.

I think there’s a lot of value in hitting rock bottom. I looked at my life and noticed I never succeeded in anything while paddling upstream. I was too tired to try yet another set of oars, or to build up my rowing muscles, or to convince myself that I loved paddling upstream so, so much.

My arms gave out, and I let go.

My decision to let go brought up a lot of objections from my ego. How can you be tired? You don’t have kids! You don’t have a soul-crushing job! You’re not trapped anywhere! You have no reason to be tired!

I decided I’m going to appreciate my “laziness.” My “low pain tolerance.”

I’m going to recognize that I’m young, with no essential obligations to anyone else. That’s precisely why I have a responsibility to turn downstream while I can.

I can’t imagine paddling upstream for the rest of my life, or even for the rest of my 20s.

I don’t have it in me, and I’m thankful for that.

Going downstream doesn’t mean I’m lazy. It doesn’t mean that I’m never going to put effort into anything, ever again.

Going downstream means I’m going to prioritize how I feel rather than how I feel about what other people might feel about me. Revolutionary, right?

It means I’m going to build a career my way. I’m going to believe in my capacity to create amazing things when I’m coming from an authentic place.

It means I’m keeping my heart open. I don’t want to hold up walls around me anymore. I don’t want to be my own PR agency, trying to assemble variations of myself, customized to whomever I think may be watching.

Because, after all…

Everything you want is downstream.

I love writing. Writing feels downstream. I’ve been writing since I learned to hold a pencil. I write for myself nearly every day. I journal regularly as part of my growth.

In my process of writing, I’ve been able to recognize that I do have value as I am. I don’t have to paddle upstream.

I trust that sharing my value through creativity will enrich and sustain me. Trusting is its own kind of challenge, but it’s more rewarding than trying (and inevitably failing) to control everything around me.

Sometimes it’s hard not to know exactly how things are going to go. Yet, even while seeing stagnation in front of me, I feel everything coming together on a cosmic level.

My arms are weak and my oars are shitty for a reason: I’m meant to do what I love.

Are you paddling upstream or floating downstream? Comment below :)

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Your Worth is Not Based On Your Accomplishments